Tear
by emus-me
Summary: Dan is dead. Phil is devastated, but Dan's left him one last surprise. DanxPhil


Tear

_He's gone…_ Phil stared at the marble slab marking a patch of fresh dirt amid the neatly trimmed grass. He had cried so much over the past few days that he physically could not shed any more tears. He hardly even felt sad anymore, just empty and numb… Sadness is a virile emotion, selfishly indulgent and very alive. He felt as dead as the boy who was now covered in eight meters of soil. He hadn't been able to watch the coffin being lowered. He knew Dan's body really wasn't Dan anymore, but watching them close the lid, he couldn't help but imagine Dan suddenly waking up, frightened and screaming, though no one could hear him, slowly suffocating under the weight of earth, desperately begging Phil to save him.

Of course, Phil couldn't have saved him. Phil wasn't a doctor, and even they couldn't explain it. He wasn't a smoker, had no family history. Sure, the air in London was infamously foul, but most Londoners didn't just randomly develop terminal lung cancer and slowly fade away before finishing their third decade. It wasn't fair. They'd finally worked out how they were meant to be. It was barely two months after returning from the honeymoon that Dan started coughing up blood. They spent most of their first anniversary lying in bed, Phil rubbing Dan's back while particularly bad coughing fits wracked the younger man's body, and scolding him for sneaking out earlier that morning to buy Phil a massive stuffed lion. Phil smiled at the memory in spite of himself.

He reached out a hand to stroke the tombstone, wanting to say so many things. Knowing Dan wouldn't hear any of it. "Excuse me, Phil?" Phil, however, could hear very well. He recognized the voice immediately but didn't turn around to acknowledge the speaker. He'd caught a glimpse of her through the crowd of mourners earlier and walked the other way. Somehow he'd managed to avoid seeing her for the entire service, and he didn't feel like changing that now.

"Samantha, thank you for coming. I'm sure if he's still… I'm sure it meant a lot to Dan to have you here." He wasn't sure why. Sure, Sam and Dan had been friends once, but after Phil changed his mind about the engagement, Samantha had left the ring and the friendships behind without a single word. She'd cut off all contact, so Dan and Phil had respectfully lost her number. They never even spoke about her until the week Dan died. He'd been admitted to the hospital after passing out from lack of oxygen. Now a machine breathed for him. Dan had stayed largely upbeat the whole time, only occasionally collapsing into fits of tears and pleading with deities far and sundry when he thought Phil wasn't around. Phil had tried his best to do the same. But that last week, Phil and Dan had reluctantly settled down to sort out the awful minutia of death: finalizing Dan's will, picking a burial plot, and the funeral arrangements.

"I want Sam to come," Dan had said suddenly.

"Of course we'll invite your cousin Samuel, even if he did skip the wedding on religious grounds," Phil had mumbled, typing the name onto the list.

"No, not Samuel, fuck him," Dan protested. "Sam." Phil was halfway through a mental list of people they might have met once and bonded with at a convention or something when Dan clarified, "Cereal Sam. Samantha. I want her to come to my funeral."

Phil observed Dan carefully. Maybe the medication was getting to him.

"I'm serious! She was a good friend, to both of us. I know we've had a falling out and I won't pressure her into visiting me here or anything, but I think she'd want to say goodbye. I'll write her an invitation myself," he added, reaching for a notepad. Phil was sure Sam had to have heard about Dan's illness by now, it having been announced recently on Youtube and causing a shit storm in the media, and figured she must not have cared much if she hadn't tried to contact them already, but he couldn't refuse Dan anything at this point. When Dan handed him the sealed envelope with a messily scrawled "Sam" and a doodle of a llama on top, he had faithfully sent it to be hand-delivered through a long line of mutual friends. He was told she'd received it, and she still hadn't come to visit while Dan was alive. _But he'd be so glad to know you made it out today_, he thought bitterly.

"Phil, I'm so sorry for your loss." He didn't respond. "I know he was like a part of you. Your soulmate. And he was… a good friend."

"Thank you very much," Phil sighed. He hadn't expected much different. Really, what was there to say? She couldn't bring Dan back, she couldn't fix Phil, make him feel again. And it wasn't her responsibility, anyway.

"Mum, I'm hungry…" a smaller voice whined. Phil turned to investigate the noise, curiosity briefly overwhelming the nothingness tearing through his world.

"We'll eat soon, sweetie," Sam cooed down to a young boy who was holding her hand. He looked to be 3 or 4, with unruly black hair and eyes very unlike his mother's. Phil eyed Sam quizzically.

"Phil," she hedged, pulling a folded letter from her jacket pocket, "I know you don't want to see me, and I don't expect anything from you, but Dan asked me to come, and Dan was my friend. He said he just wanted this one last thing before he died, and I'm not sure it's the right thing to do, but it was his last wish, so I couldn't say no, right?" The words tumbled out all at once. Phil nodded, very confused.

"Dan wanted… He wanted you to meet Phillip Michael," she said quietly, looking down at the child.

Phil's eyes widened in sudden realization and disbelief.

"Phillip, say hello to Phil," Sam squeezed the boy's hand lightly. The boy almost fell over backwards trying to look the 6 foot tall man in the eye.

"Phil.. That's my name!"

"Yeah… Mine too," Phil's voice caught in his throat. "It's a good name, don't you think?"

"Yeah…" Little Phil blinked his overly large eyes uncertainly at the bigger Phil, then returned his attention to his mother. "I'm reeeally hungryy…"

"I think there's some food inside; shall we go look for it together?" Phil offered.

Both boys directed questioning glances at Sam, who nodded.

"Right, well, let's have look then." Phil led the way, surreptitiously wiping a single tear from his cheek.


End file.
